By Tim Henman
Ha ha, gutted Murray. You thought you were really going places with your 'amazing' run of form at this year's Wimbledon, which had the whole nation 'gripped'.
'YAWN' Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt, cleaned it whiter with Ariel. When you were still cowering from some nutter at school, I was already delighting the crowds at Wimbledon and making them believe that one day, I wouldn't totally choke and lose when it really mattered.
And nowhere was the great British love affair between the public and me, tiger Tim, more evident than on Henman Hill, that fabled gradient of grass where the crowds amassed to watch me on the big screen and cheer me on, ugly faces painted, screams of "Come on Tim!" piercing the air.
And now, after years of my failure and eventual retirement, some dull little Scots boy who looks like a Lion bar wants to come along and take my hill! And what's worse, make it some kind of sick Murray Mound! That sounds disgusting, not the sort of place you'd want your mother to sit. Well, not my mother, maybe yours.
Good thing you went and fucked it up! I'm afraid it's still very much Henman Hill. For now.
TWEET THIS!
1 Comment
Trust Henman to make a mountain out of a Murray Molehill.
Posted on 4 July 2009 at 22:18
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